


sweet talking, sugar-coated

by dozencandles



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, Relationships aren't a competition, Rodimus: but what if they were and also I was winning, Thunderclash is just happy to be here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:42:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26433595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dozencandles/pseuds/dozencandles
Summary: If there was a competition for best Boyfriend, Thunderclash would drop out so Rodimus could win. Then Rodimus would throw the trophy at him.
Relationships: Rodimus | Rodimus Prime/Thunderclash
Comments: 11
Kudos: 42





	1. nothin more dangerous than a boy with charm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cili](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cili/gifts).



> Cili struck again, once more being funny in the comments for chap 5 of Thunderrod week, in which Rodimus tries to out-chivalry Thunderclash over a box of candy. Everyone go say "thank you Cili" if you enjoy this.
> 
> In addition to being a gift for Cili, this is also dedicated to any and all readers who work fast-food service, as chapter 5 of Thunderrod week was written in a 17 car line-up at Burger King while I danced in my car to the amusement of the truck ahead of me. Y'all are the heros of my heart, the saviors of my starving stomach and you deserve government subsidies

Okay so, it's pretty well-known that Thunderclash is a great guy. Like, a Great Guy. He's friendly, he cares, he'll stop and listen to whatever you have to say if he has free-time. He's got this way if making everybody feel seen, everybody feel like they mean something.He makes even the lowest ranking member feel like they're important because he genuinely believes they are. And when Thunderclash himself believes in you, who needs therapy? The Greatest Autobot Ever just made you feel good about yourself. Mecha could coast for weeks on that.

And he's in love with Rodimus. That sentence alone is enough to make him dizzy with emotion. He could have picked anyone, could have had anyone, an-ee-one and he went right up to Rodimus and asked him to refuel together at Mirage's. So obviously, Rodimus said yes. Yeah, he had that little grudge against anyone better than him, but if anyone better than him was interested in him, well. 

And it was nice. It was more than nice. There weren't enough synonyms to describe how nice it was. Thunderclash was sweet, attentive, and genuine, letting Rodimus ramble about all the things no one else wanted to hear about, like his new roller skates or his last adventure meteor surfing or this really cool movie he was trying to get Swerve to play at Movie Night because it was an underrated classic and what Thunderclash had seen it too?! No way.

Perfect. It was perfect, plain and simple. Rodimus couldn't exactly see himself wearing a bumper sticker that said "Thunderclash's #1 fan", but ok. Yeah, he got the hype now. All it took was one date. Mech was good, Rodimus would give him that.

Too good, Rodimus realized as time went on. Thunderclash kept doors open for him, pulled chairs out for him, memorized his drink order and his favorite additives and bought boxes of their favorite candy to share together curled up on the berth as the projector played something they weren't paying attention too, because of course Thunderclash was a good kisser too. He was good at everything. Yeah, Rodimus knew that going in but only now was he realizing he might need to step his game up. Basking in adoration was his natural state of being, but a continually pouring pitcher had to run dry eventually right? Metaphors maybe weren't his strong point, but being awesome totally was. This would be easy. 

He just needed time to think. He couldn't be constantly distracted by all the kindness Thunderclash was so insistent on showering him with. So in a blatant abuse of Captain's authority, and only a moderate amount of guilt, he opened the spread sheet program Magnus kept for scheduling shifts and got to work.

He had a hero to romance.

***

"How are things?" Ratchet asked. Usually he doesn't care about other people's relationships, doesn't read obsessively over the Lost Light Insider's special relationship update column like some nurses he could name that needed to get a damn hobby, but Thunderclash has been a close friend since the day they met at the Academy. And Rodimus is Drift's amica, so he might as well hear Thunderclash out too.

Thunderclash naturally knows what he's angling for, huffing out a quiet laugh as he checks the Med-Bay's inventory. That's the thing about Thunderclash; he can't ever just sit down and do nothing. He always has to feel useful, always has to make sure he can do a quick favor, whatever task or chore that would only take a few seconds. Privately, Ratchet's grateful at the opportunity for a sit-down but it didn't stop him from rolling his optics when Thunderclash looked around and tentatively suggested he could help out.

"Good." He said honestly. "I was surprised he said yes to begin with, but I thought I didn't have anything to lose by asking. And now, well…" he paused and gave Ratchet a smile. "If I told you how often I think of him, what little ways I can make his day a little better, how I can show him my appreciation for everything he is, you'd hit me with a wrench to shut me up."

"Don't tempt me." Ratchet threatened, but they both know there's nothing behind it; any and all wrenches are safely put away out of Ratchet's reach. "Some would call you an unlikely couple."

"Maybe if they weren't paying attention." Thunderclash marked a checkbox off on his list and nodded to himself. "We work for us. That's what's important."

Ratchet couldn't really deny that. His own conjunxing was proof of that simple statement. 

"How's Drift?" Thunderclash asked in a gentle, teasing tone. Ratchet scoffed, a smile tugging at the corners of his derma.

"Good." He said honestly. "I'm not going to wax poetic or anything but…" He paused, tapped a pen against the corner of his desk. "I love him, 'Clash. I really do. That's all there is to say about it."

"Indeed." Thunderclash said, ticking off the final box on the list and presenting it to Ratchet without fanfare. 

"Where you off to now?" Ratchet asked as Thunderclash, unable to find any other chore to complete, began to take his leave.

"I'm going to write a note for Rodimus." He said. "Unlucky shift scheduling has kept us apart for a while; I thought I'd let him know I'm still there for him."

"Sap." Ratchet said. "See you around, Thunderclash."

"Goodbye, Ratchet."

***

Two cycles into his shift-hacking scheme time, Rodimus realized he might need back up for this. It's not that he's bad at romance! Perish the thought immediately. He was going to romance the flaming pits out of Thunderclash. 

He just thought he might do better if someone else was in the know too.

"Drift!" Rodimus hollered, pounding a fist against the door of his habsuite. "Open up! It's important!"

::Two breems, Roddy.:: Came Drift's mellow answer over the comms. :: I'm almost done.::

Rodimus groaned, slamming himself against the solid surface and letting gravity do its best, collapsing in a heap on the floor. When Drift finally opened it, he was greeted with the sight of the captain doing, presumably, his best impersonation of a doormat.

"Why are you like this." Drift said wearily, fully turning around and walking away. Rodimus "hupped" and leapt up to his pedes, following his amica in. "What did he do now?"

"Listen to this." Rodimus brandished a scrap of paper at Drift. "Actually, read it. Look at his calligraphy. I hate him."

Drift pinched the wrinkled note out of his amica's fist and smoothed it out on his table while Rodimus flopped facedown on the berth. He whistled lowly at the flourishes of the handwritten glyphs, the effort of someone who's put long joors of practice into the craft. 

"Certainly don't see it like that anymore." He said. Rodimus grunted in agreement.

 _Hello beloved_ , it began _._

_I hope you are having a wonderful day so far. Why do I hope that? Because a captain as intelligent and compassionate _ _as you are deserves to have wonderful days. That is why. And if you are not, then do let me know right away. I will do everything I can to assist you because your smile is a joy in my life._

_S.W.A.L.K_ , Thunderclash.

"The audacity of him." Drift said flatly, looking up to level his Amica with a heavy stare. Rodimus was very much not looking at him, having taken up the esteemed hobby of ceiling study. "What's swalk?"

"Sealed with a loving kiss. What do I say to that?" He asked mournfully. "Noted, with thanks?"

"Something tells me he didn't write it just for you to respond back to him." Drift methodically folded the bit of paper into an airplane and sent it flying over on a wobbly path. It nosedived sharply and bounced off Rodimus' cheek, the captain catching it before it could fall on the floor. He read it over again, a soft and dopey look threatening to overtake his face and hastily stuffed it into a subspace compartment, schooling his features back into an overexaggerated frown.

"So are you?" 

"Am I what?"

"Having a good day." Drift smirked. "If not, you better tell him."

Rodimus' darkened faceplates told Drift every he needed to know, even without the Captain's muttered "Yes I am having a good day."

"Thank you for being honest and emotionally vulnerable with me." Drift said.

"Frag off."

"This is my room."

Rodimus threw a pillow at him. Drift didn't flinch, even as it sailed past his helm by a micrometer. 

"You could ask him," Drift started, in a too-calm tone that sent warnings popping up in Rodimus' HUD. He sat up in alarm, an order to stop already forming but it was too late. Drift was going in for the kill.

"Quote, 'Is your aft good luck cause boy I wanna rub it.' end quote."

"This is why we don't have sleep-overs anymore." Rodimus grabbed another pillow and flung it at him, missing once more. "I sleep-talk and you hold it against me."

"Only this one time." Drift said, twisting to grab the pillow and whipped it across the room, striking Rodimus' face with perfect accuracy. Rodimus swore at him. 

"It's a good line!" Drift insisted, laughter bubbling up in his voice. "You should ask him to write it for you in his calligraphy! Get it framed!" 

"I'm dissolving our bond." Rodimus announced as Drift snickered. "We are no longer amicas."

"Good luck finding someone else to listen to your problems." Drift threw himself on the bed next to Rodimus and propped his chin on his fist. "That's basically all I exist for, right?"

"No," Rodimus said. "You're here so the pressure of being the hottest one onboard is equally divided."

"Thanks, I guess."

"You're welcome, babe." Rodimus shot Drift double pistols and a wink. "Now help me figure out how to "Wow!" Thunderclash."

Drift's face crinkled as he silently mouthed the word, trying to figure out where Roddy's processor had gone this time.

"How to "Wow!" your partner?" He finally asked, forming tentative quotation marks around the word. "Roddy, what?"

"He sends me a…" Rodimus' hand fluttered to the subspace compartment reflexively. 

"Love note." Drift prompted. Rodimus' face flushed with color again.

"Yes. That." He said. "Now I have to do something in return to make it up to him. Something better."

"Relationships aren't a competition Roddy." Drift said incredulously. "He sent you a nice note, you tell him "Thank you, I love you too," give him a kiss and go to bed."

"Gross." Rodimus told him. "You're so conjunxed it hurts."

"Yes, because I know love isn't some test of who can do better at performance affection." Drift said, throwing his hands in the air. "Showing off isn't a stable foundation to build a good relationship."

"Oh yeah? Then what's your relationship built on? Ratchet's fat aft?"

"The correct term," Drift said dangerously. "Is thick."

"I wasn't saying it in a bad way!" Rodimus quickly corrected, noting the proximity of the Great Sword and how fast Drift could reasonably reach it. "You were with me the day Thunders was-, he was helping with the supply loading. He couldn't transform that day, so he was carrying crates and bending over a lot. I have nothing against a wider frametype. Actually, I want them against me. Preferably against a wall."

"Primus, Roddy." Drift groaned. "Just smack Thunderclash on the rear and say thank you."

"But that's not romantic!" Rodimus whined, bringing the conversation full circle. Drift wondered if Ratchet was having a better time doing inventory.


	2. the gossip tonight

It was a truth universally acknowledged that a ship full of Cybertronians would be in want of adventure, and failing to find it, they would make it themselves.

Which is a much wordier way of saying: "Something strange was happening on the Lost Light again."

Thunderclash had been apart of the crew long enough to realize strange events were, in fact, the norm around here. What was new about this latest string of occurrences was that they were centered around his sudden romantic entanglement with one Rodimus Prime. In fact, they were perpetrated by none other than Rodimus Prime. He made no attempts to hide his involvement in the shenanigans and Thunderclash didn't know whether to be flattered or worried.

It had begun with the Rodimus Star. Their shifts had aligned once more and Thunderclash had positively beamed with joy upon seeing the face of his beloved appear on the bridge. Not that he couldn't handle a brief separation, it was...it was like a homecoming of sorts. _There he is_ , he'd thought. _There is my beloved_. 

Rodimus had marched up to him with a determined look on his face, ignoring the glances of everyone around him. Thunderclash had greeted him with an embrace and the way Rodimus had leaned into it, practically melting against him would keep his spark turning for ages to come. 

"I brought you something." Rodimus said when they pulled away. "An award."

"Oh?" Thunderclash couldn't keep the smile off his face. Honestly, the way he felt around the Prime was ridiculous, but after an eternity of war he felt like a little ridiculousness in the name of love was allowed.

The key word being, he would later reflect upon, little.

"Yes." Rodimus audibly reset his vocalizer and straightened his spinal struts into a suitably authoritative postureThunderclash could feel the eyes of the mechs around them and raised an orbital ridge, still smiling.

"I, Co-Captain of the Lost Light, Rodimus Prime hereby award you, Thunderclash, this Rodimus Star for your heroic actions of which there are too numerous to name." He relaxed a bit and winked at Thunderclash. "But also as a thank you for the note you sent. Just wanted to make it official."

Rodimus opened a small velvet box Thunderclash hadn't noticed earlier, to reveal the shining gold of the Star. He raised his chin and saluted as Rodimus placed it firmly in the center of his eagle crest, and waited til Rodimus saluted him back before speaking.

"I'll treasure it always." He said softly, tracing his fingers over it, feeling the same smirk Rodimus was giving him engraved into the metal. "Above all others. Permission to kiss you, Captain?"

"Permission granted."

Thunderclash wasn't big on flashy displays of affection. So he simply went down on one knee and kissed the back of Rodimus' hand, like he'd seen in movies.

"But not as much as I treasure you." He said, and someone whistled.

"May I remind you," Magnus said loudly. "That this is a public area and there are rules about 'PDA'".

Thunderclash stood again, offering his arm to Rodimus, who took it with a strange look on his face.

"Care to join me for a walk?" He asked.

"Yes." Rodimus said through grit dentae that Thunderclash didn't think too hard about as they went on their way.

He should have asked if something was wrong then. It would have saved a lot of trouble.

* * *

"Since when do you read the Lost Light Insider?" Tailgate asked, stretching over the bar top to see what Swerve was doing. It was a slow night at the titular bar, so Bluestreak had been allowed to take over for a practice shift.

"Since I was voted Cutest Bartender." He said with a wide smile to better show off the gap in his dentae that had propelled him into first place. "Take that, Mirage! Wanna hear the latest gossip?"

"Yes, please." Tailgate drummed his hands on the counter, visor lighting up with glee. "Is there any update to the rogue cleaning drone?"

"Last seen lurking ominously in the vents on the mid-levels hallways." Swerve read out. "The knife is still attached, so usual warnings about being aware of your surroundings still apply, but like…" Swerve to a moment to wave his arm furiously around in the air in a wide gesture. "It's the Lost Light. No one's gonna pay attention to their ankles until Stabby the Drone strikes once more."

"Cyc insists on walking ahead of me these days, just in case." Tailgate mused, stirring his straw and watching colors of his drink mix together to form a dark purple hue. "I tell him it's fine but he won't listen."

"You ever convince him to wear a leash so you can attach your hoverboard to ride behind him?"

"He says that sort of stuff should stay in our habsuite where it's private." Tailgate demurely covered his face and lowered the brightness of his visor to a coy setting as Swerve cracked up.

"You don't." He wheezed. "Do you? Wait, don't actually tell me. Then I can claim plausible deniability the next time I see Cyclonus and bust a cog laughing. Anything else you wanna know?"

"Yes! What is going on with Captain and Thunderclash?"

"Been wondering that myself." Swerve said as he flipped to the requested section. The Lost Light Insider was, at it's core, a trashy gossip rag. No amount of professional advice columns or Magnus-sanctioned announcements could change that. However, the anonymous writers embraced that fact wholeheartedly. Anything could be news.

 _Anything_.

"They've been together a while, but did you know they're voted the second cutest couple on board?" Swerve asked. "Why is that even a thing?"

"I don't know. I think it's pointless." Said Tailgate, one half of the voted First Place Cutest Couple. Swerve gave him a disbelieving look. Tailgate innocently slurped his drink.

"Keeping an eye on the competition, eh?" Bluestreak said from where he definitely had not been eavesdropping.

"It's not a competition!" Said Tailgate, the reigning champion and local hypocrite.

"Willing to bet on that?" Bluestreak asked, somehow managing to polish a glass in the most mischievous manner Swerve had ever seen. 

"Now hold on," said Swerve, waving his hands on the air, "I don't have a license to hold any gambling rings in this establishment! I don't want Magnus shutting the place down again!"

"Oh, it'll be hush-hush." Bluestreak promised, placing the glass down and leaning over the counter with a wicked smirk. "Just between us, yeah? Hundred cred for who ever comes out on top for the next poll?"

He held out a hand to Tailgate, who looked at it with a tilt to his head.

"You have a problem." Swerve said.

"And a deal!" Tailgate said, reaching over to shake. A message popped up in their respective HUD's, outlining the current status of their bets. Bluestreak nodded, and picked up another glass to polish from the seemingly endless supply.

"Pleasure doin' business with you." He said. Swerve groaned and dragged his hands down his face.

"If I get in trouble for this, I'm dragging you two down with me." He said. Tailgate shrugged.

"So don't let anyone find out." He said simply. 

* * *

"Is it true there's a bet on Rodimus and Thunderclash winning Cutest Couple?" Drift asked the very next cycle and Swerve smashed a cube on the ground.

"Bluestreak!" He yelled. The mech in question laughed nervously and scratched the back of his neck. 

"I want to start a different bet." Drift said, steepling his fingers in front of his face with an air of deadly calm. "On the situation between Thunderclash and Rodimus." An offer popped up on Swerve's HUD and the minibot had to grip the edge of the counter to keep from fainting.

"That's uh…" he took a deep in-vent and tried not to think of all the things he could do with that kind of cash. Don't think about new seats, don't think about all the expensive triple-filtered, _don't do it, just don't_ \--

"I've already spoken to Bluestreak about this." Drift continued, oblivious to the crisis of conscience Swerve was going through in front of him. "I assure you that Magnus will not find out about either bets."

"So why are you asking my permission and not Bluestreak's?" Swerve asked. 

"Just seems fair to keep you in the loop." Drift said with a graceful lift of his shoulders. "You're a business man, Swerve. I trust you to keep track of the bets more than I trust Bluestreak. No offense."

"None taken." Bluestreak replied. "I don't trust you either. No offense."

"None taken. So am I in?" Drift asked, and Swerve swallowed. 

"Sure." He said. "It's not like anybody's got anything better to do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ........Oh dear.

**Author's Note:**

> The line Drift teases Rodimus about I cannot take credit for. It is from an ego-driven pop music project from a reality show that doesn't deserve my time or attention anymore but the songs created are still stuck in my head on repeat.
> 
> Just the idea of two speedsters going absolutely nuts over their boxy convoy/ambulance husbands is *chef's kiss* peak romance


End file.
